Wrapped up hearts
by A m r a k l o ve
Summary: Short stories of the Uchiha family during Christmas. / 3. Winter Festival.
1. Down the chimney

Title: Down the chimney.

Summary: Little Sarada has an idea, and an idea true must become.

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_**"To a father growing old nothing is dearest than a daughter." **Euripides._

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"Mama!" After hearing the soft, hurried footsteps of her little angel, Sakura turns to look at her. She's shining a bright smile at her and from the angle she's positioned, her small eyes seem to glint with grand light and excitement.

But what catches the pinkette's attention_,_ really, is the delicate and white piece of paper her daughter's holding in her tiny tiny hands. She's hiding what's on it, Sakura notices, and it doesn't take long before she blurts out what that is in concrete.

And when she does, it takes her completely off guard.

Sakura's eyes widen for a moment, staring at her, and the drawing, and at her precious heir back again, just out of pure shock. She doesn't know what to say.

"Papa, look, this is the North pole." Sasuke, who had just entered the kitchen after a long shower, stares at her daughter with little amusement. He blinks. "I made a map to get there so we don't get lost, can we goooooo, pleeeeease?" Sarada makes sure the _o_ and the _e_ are elongated, taking the time to voice them out absurdly for too long.

Sakura bites her lip to contain the laughter that tries to escape her mouth, later realising that Sasuke is not answering back. She shifts her gaze to look at him just to see him looking back at her with the same shock reflected in his charcoal eyes. She stifles a giggle.

"Mama!" Sakura composes herself. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, baby."

"Then, can we go?"

Sasuke runs a hand through his messy locks of hair and sits down next to her, contemplating her made up map. After thinking and rethinking the situation—which he never thought would happen—for a really long time, he sighs. He opts for the easy question, "why do you want to go?"

It was as if that was the worst thing he could have said, though, for the look of horror plastered on his daughter's face was priceless—but wrong, wrong wrong wrong wrong. It was not good.

Her defined eyebrows are scrunched up together in the verge of touching, her eyes in an angry glare behind glass, and lips put into a frown.

He'd never seen such an expression from her, and even _he_ needed to recognise that it was pretty hilarious. And his thoughts were proven right when his dear, and _mature_, wife started laughing like there was no tomorrow. Couldn't she see the position he was in?

Sarada beamed with anger. "Papa! Isn't it obvious?" Sasuke stared. "I wanna go because this is where Santa lives!"

Well, that part he already knew–not that he was going to tell her that. Now he didn't have any options left. Now he was frustrated.

"Papa please? All I ask for this christmas is to see him!"

See Santa? Out of all the gifts he can get her from his travels—all the souvenirs and toys, the clothes and the little nothings—she chose the most difficult one. If not impossible.

"We can't go, Sarada."

He was greeted with a high-pitched wail of anger, "I wanna go!" He flinches in the slightest.

A pleading look in Sakura's direction, though, is all it takes for the disaster to stop—stop and end and _die_, along with his embarrassment.

His wife lifts little four-year-old Sarada up and holds her close while walking away from him, the paper long forgotten. He can hear suppressed laughter, snickers, and whispers.

And that's when he knows the disaster is still there and very much alive.

.

.

.

.

.

"We talked about this."

"No."

"But Sasuke-kun—"

"No." He repeats, this time louder in the mess of their mangled bodies in the warmth of the bed. It's nighttime. He just wants to sleep, but it seems she had another idea in mind. Was she not sleepy?

"You know how happy that would make her," she whispers against his collarbone, making an unwanted shiver to run down his spine. The thought of her trying to convince him for the rest of the night brings him to, almost, make her shut up in the most unorthodox of ways.

Almost.

He remembers she needs to work tomorrow at the hospital, and that the last time he complied to his dark desires, she couldn't walk properly for more than three hours. He got a big red mark on his cheek for days after that.

So, with that in mind, he closes his eyes for the best and attempts to ignore his wife.

"Sasuke-kun?"

"I said no, Sakura. And that's final."

He should've known better.

.

.

.

.

.

A mad Sasuke was the worst kind of Sasuke, Sakura thought. A mad Sasuke with a white beard was even better, she concluded.

"Santa!"

Sarada hugs him with genuine interest and happiness. And the ignorance of a young kid who clearly doesn't see the glare of pure humiliation coming from a male face covered in makeup and a long, white beard. His hair is covered with a white wig and a red christmas hat. The outfit is just as the one Santa is supposed to wear, and his tummy area is filled up with hidden pillows for the impression of him being fat.

It's an adorable scene, for sure. She will take pictures and keep them forever, and she would make sure he never had a saying.

Sakura can hear profanities being uttered from Sasuke's mouth and she pinches him slightly in the arm.

"Santa? What were you going to say?" Sakura threatens under the seemingly innocent question.

Sasuke stiffens, and swears this is the last thing he would do for this woman.

That, he knows, is a lie.

After a really long time of thinking of all the ways he could make Sakura suffer—and failing miserably—he takes a big breath and opens his mouth. Only to close it back again and glare at his pain in the ass for wife. She glares back intensely—he knows this, just this, he must do. He looks at the kid who holds onto his leg desperately. At his little girl.

If she's really happy, then...

Sasuke lifts up the corner of his mouth in an amused smirk, and murmurs.

"Ho ho ho, merry christmas!" It's just a whisper only the three of them can hear.

Still, he feels like dying. If only he could go to the North pole...

Sakura smiles and pats his back, unafraid of the dark aura that surrounds him.

_Good boy._

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A/N: So this was an idea I had a few nights ago that I just needed to write, regardless of the outcome (which I don't think is thaaaat bah xD). Reviews are appreciated and I'm thinking about adding more one-shots soon. Bye-bye!


	2. Hot Cocoa

Title: Hot Cocoa

Summary: Sakura falls asleep while waiting for Sasuke.

**A/N:** I made this one shorter and I'm sorry it took so long. I may post 2 more one-shots before January 5th. :D yay. And for those who asked: Yes, of course you can send me ideas/prompts! It actually helps a little because I get kinda of a writter's block when I have to make one myself :P

Enjoy New Year's Eve!

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_**"Family is not an important **_**_thing. It's everything." _**_Michael J. Fox._

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"Papa's coming baby," she whispers to the soon-to-be born creature that develops in her womb. Stretching her legs on the ample, brown couch and resting her head on a pillow, she sighs in annoyance at the lack of sound in the room.

Sakura looks around and focuses her gaze on the chimney: lit, and next to her. No more than fifteen minutes pass that she feels sleepy again.

A strong little kick has her guessing that the baby is very much awake and wanting to—for the life of her—eat.

Eat.

She sighs, "I see you're hungry again," patting her bump, she makes to stand up, gasping for the shortest second at the small contraction that crosses her and leaves her panting. But she's not due yet, and she knows—she knows she still has five weeks left to see her beautiful angel. And so she holds herself together and makes her way to the kitchen.

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.

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The first thing Sasuke sees when he arrives home that afternoon—after going to every single grocery store and buying the things his lovely wife wanted—makes him smile.

It's just a quirk upward to the corner of his lips, but it's still something. He leaves the bags on the counter of the somewhat-messy kitchen and looks at the scene again.

The chimney is lit with fire, the soft cackling of the burning flames caressing his wife's face and making it tinge with the colours of the sun itself—warm and lively. She's on the couch. A small cup of hot chocolate on the table in front of her. And she's carrying an innocent gesture, laying—sleeping—on the couch and touching her now big tummy—as she likes to call it.

He wants to wake her—to tell her of all the sweet and tasty things he bought her and of which he took the trouble of spending most of the day finding.

But she's sound asleep and he's not stupid to not notice how everyday she wears dark bags under her eyes, and tired, exhausted smiles from lack of sleep. He knows she barely gets any rest lately, anymore. So he grabs a blanket and puts it over her, leaving the face uncovered.

He'll just have to stay here for the night, making sure nothing bad happens.

But first, he stands up to prepare another hot chocolate for himself.

Sakura lazily watches as he makes his way into the kitchen, and smiles.

She goes to sleep again.


	3. Winter Festival

Title: Winter Festival.

Summary: Sasuke is on a mission and the big event approaches.

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_**"Families are like branches on a tree. We grow in different directions, yet our roots remain as one." **__Unknown._

* * *

It takes all of her self-control to keep her lips from turning down. It takes all the patience in the world and the understanding of life as a ninja to keep her hands from crushing the yellow and small, children's book that she has on her lap.

She stares wide-eyed at her daughter, a three-year-old bundle of confusion and happiness, sitting on her daughter's small bed while the little girl is in lying with her head on her fluffy pink pillows.

She innocently stares up at her mother, who sits facing her at the edge of the bed, cross-legged.

"Mama?" She asks, biting her small lips insecurely but with eyes as curious as her mother's husband.

"What's that?" Sakura replies, asking a nonchalant, dismissive question of her own; she diverges the focus of attention to another topic more present at hand. "Wanna know why Koichi the dragon fell to the pond? Remember how he was too little and was learning how to walk?" She points at a picture on the tenth page of the tiny book, with a tiny dragon looking down at a pond.

But the attempt is futile, as much as she raises her eyebrows and smiles at her daughter, obviously feigning excitement, because her daughter comes from the smartest people at the academy from Sakura's generation for a reason not wasted.

And she persists in her adamant conquest.

"Mama? Why doesn't papa come back?" The little girl repeats the question, her eyebrows furrowing and lips pursing when she's met with no answer from her mother, who in turn looks at her daughter's expression with something akin to awe. She looks so much like him.

Sakura takes her time; she sighs, dropping her smile for a moment and sliding a hand down her tired, sleepless face. But then she looks at her small bundle of sunshine and smiles again, an answer formulating in her brain.

"Your papa isn't here right now. He's not in the village." She calmly explains, letting a warmth seep into her voice to reassure her daughter that that's okay.

But once again, she's met with persistence.

"Why not?"

"Because..." After thinking for a split three seconds, Sakura opts for the truth. The unabashed, hard, saddening truth. "Because he's on a mission, honey. He left a week ago, remember? Remember how he said bye to us?" Sakura prods, and at her daughter's enthusiastic nods, she goes on.

"He left to complete a mission Kakashi-sensei gave him, you know?"

Sarada purses her lips again, sitting up and looking at her mother like she hadn't answered her question at all. "But when he'll be back?"

Sakura wants to correct her daughter's grammatical errors, but a voice in her head tells her that there's something more important at hand.

And so she smiles again, the corners of her eyes wrinkling with the motion, reflecting her agonising ageing process.

"Papa will be back, alright? He's going to come back soon, he's just on a very important mission right now."

Sarada lies down again with a sigh, nodding a little as if absorbing the information and accepting the reality of it all. Sakura wraps the thick bedsheets closer to Sarada's face, without really covering it. The cold around them, even when the heater is on in their house, is still present, seeping through the thin walls, and she doesn't want Sarada to catch another cold.

"Mama?" She interrupts her thoughts, prodding for another question Sakura knows is coming.

"Yeah, baby?"

Sarada shifts uncomfortably under the sheets, refusing to meet her mother's piercing green eyes at her next question. This is how she misses Sakura's sharp expression change, from smiling to painful. For a split second, so fast no one could really notice.

"Is papa gonna be here for the lights?"

Sakura bites her lip and holds in a groan. The lights. The lights is what Sarada calls festivals in Konoha.

There are so many lights that, even if everyone tells her they're called festivals, the girl just refuses to call them any other way.

What she's referring to is the annual winter festival. It is held in the Southern part of the village, prepared for for weeks and weeks. It's—along with the spring festival—one of the biggest events the village has during the year, and most certainly one of her favourites. There are incredible, beautiful fireworks at midnight, and then everyone with children leave, and the adults start getting tipsy and start having fun.

Sakura remembers going with Sasuke the year after the war, three months before he left to his path of redemption, coming back to her almost three years later.

Sakura's eyes soften at the warm memory; at how they had their first date, and at how Sasuke didn't seem excited to go but still did because of her; at how Sasuke held her hand when the fireworks started, completely taking her by surprise and leaving her smiling the rest of the way back home; at how at peace he looked around all of Team Seven, eating and doing contests at the stands here and there.

Sarada turns her eyes and red cheeks to Sakura, finally signalling that she expects an answer.

Sakura takes a deep breath.

"I don't think he'll be able to make it, Sarada. The festival is tomorrow, you know that."

Sarada huffs and puffs, crossing her arms. Sakura runs a hand down her lithe arm.

"Come on, let's not be like this," Sakura breathes, "uncle Naruto will be there, and aunt Ino, and Hinata, and you know who else?"

Sarada's eyes light up and all her previous madness seems to go away in an instant.

"Who? Who? Boruto?"

Sakura laughs wholeheartedly at how Sarada practically beams with excitement, and nods as excited as her daughter.

"Now, let me finish this story, and we can go to sleep, alright?"

Sarada nods, holding onto the thick blankets with her ecstatic small hands.

Sakura resumes the reading.

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Sasuke speeds up around the trees, planting his wasted Shinobi soles on every tree branch here and there. His hood is pulled back with the force of the wind, and his cloak moves about wildly around him. His mind is set on only one place: home.

He'd been gone for a month. Kakashi had given him clues and hints that people outside the perimeters of Fire had collected, things that have been said and passed from person to person. Things that are classified, that only people like the Hokage are supposed to hear. He'd had to gather information around the Fire country; he'd had to investigate why people were talking so freely about Kaguya, about other entities related to the Rabbit Goddess, rumoured to be still alive.

The information he collected during the past month is important, substantial with extra knowledge and news for the Hokage and the five nations.

But that wasn't what was on his mind. Sakura had sent him a letter last week, talking about how everyone was doing, how she was doing, asking how he was doing, how his daughter was doing. At the end of the letter, Sakura had briefly mentioned she was going to go to the annual winter festival with Sarada. He had had to look away from the letter when a small, constricting pain in his chest made him close his eyes momentarily.

He remembers how they hadn't gone the past two years, since the moment they were settled in Konoha, due to the fact that Sakura never mentioned it and he never really realised it. They spent that day with their daughter, putting her to her crib when she fell asleep after nine, and then they ate in the comfort of their home.

Sometimes Sasuke thinks to tell his wife that being with her and their daughter in their home would never compare to going to a ridiculously loud, exaggerated, cold event. But she hadn't mentioned the festival the past two years. She had mentioned it this one.

Racing through the forest as if he's being pursued, Sasuke doesn't want to miss it for anything in the world.

Rumours about Kaguya or not, he hadn't seen his family in a month. He can visualise Sarada's hopeful look already, asking Sakura about him.

Sasuke has been running for a little more than twenty-four hours, speeding and jumping and concentrated in his quest since he took the last bit of important information for Kakashi.

The sun is already setting when he sees the gates of Konoha in the distance. He jumps from the last tree to the ground, walking the short path to the gates. The two guards at the sides spare themselves glances as he approaches, but say nothing as he passes through the gates.

.

.

.

It's around eight when he steps out of the Hokage's office, cursing under his breath at Kakashi for keeping the Uchiha in his office for an hour. Yes, the information was crucial, and yes, he had a lot to say, but he can't help but move his legs faster toward the center of the village as soon as he gets out.

He has to admit to himself that a quick shower, food, and some sleep would be very welcomed at this moment in time; he's been running for hours nonstop, adamant on getting home on time.

When he stands in front of his house, he realises he's late. The lights are all off, and there is not one chakra signature inside. He sighs, getting out his keys from a bag strapped over his chest and on his hip and opening the door soundlessly.

It's around eight at night, and Sasuke knows Sakura will stay at the event until midnight—and he knows she doesn't know he's here, for he replied to her letter saying he'd be coming back mid-January.

So Sasuke lets himself enjoy a much needed shower, scrubbing off the dirt and sweat off his tired body. He steps off and dries his hair with his towel, one-handed. He eats an almost-rotting tomato placed on a basket, a small part of him smiling at the image of Sarada spitting out her tomato bite out, a disgusted expression on her face and a betrayed one on his.

And then he's inside the walk-in closet, fingers touching the soft material of the yukata he wore to the same festival almost seven years ago, on what he considers his first date with Sakura.

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.

.

Sakura has been paying attention to Sarada only since she got to the big event. Her eyes haven't really looked at anything else but her tiny daughter, moving about next to Boruto and Inojin, talking and laughing and smiling at them, and at everything. Her daughter seems to like the lights, for she points to them and yells every now and then, "look, mama! We're at the lights!" At the festival, she means.

Sakura is walking the whole time next to her; first, she was holding her hand at the start of their adventure, obviously noticing her daughter's unexpected shyness. Now, she's walking next to Ino, Sai, Naruto, and Hinata. And Sarada is in front of her, next to Inojin and Boruto.

They've already walked around the festival once, and Sakura can guess it's nine o'clock right now.

Ino turns to her. "Hey forehead, what do you say we play that?" With a tilt of her blonde head, she points at something behind them, and Sakura turns around to look at a contest both of them have played since they could remember—especially when they were rivals, fighting for Sasuke's love all the time, for this game was pretty competitive.

She's about to answer when Naruto claps his hands together and smiles. "Look guys, a ramen stand!" Pointing to something a few feet in front of them, Naruto beams with excitement and Hinata smiles next to him.

"It's true. We haven't eaten since we got here," Sai responds, stating the obvious as usual.

Sakura and Ino spare glances at the interruption of a competitive game from their childhoods, but nod silently in favour of all of them eating something.

Sakura lifts Sarada up and holds her near her hip, approaching the stand and asking her what she wanted.

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.

.

When Sasuke finally found them, they were alone. His ears and eyes twitched from time to time at the loud atmosphere on the streets, and the glances he received every three seconds.

But he finally found them.

He could hear Naruto, even when the crowd only intensified every hour, when he yelled about how Inojin should try to eat his ramen—seems like Naruto found someone who despised his loving ramen.

He pays him no mind.

Sakura is looking at the different kinds of bracelets on display at one cozy, small stand. She's wearing the same kimono from seven years ago, with a lazy jacket open in the front, and he can't help but let his eyes soften at the sight he's greeted with. She looks lovely, as per usual in his observing eyes.

What catches most of his attention is Sarada, perched up on her mother's shoulders and playing with said person's bangs—Sakura's hair is up on a bun, but not for long, he thinks. She's wearing dark, long trousers and a red coat, closed on the front and keeping her warm. She's also wearing black gloves, he notices from afar, and a red wool hat that covers her head from the cold.

With an intake of breath, he takes languid steps toward his family. Slow, cautious, but sure and firm.

And when he's just behind them, he lets the air out, watching as a cloud forms in front of his face from the cold.

Sakura, as expected, notices him first. She tenses her shoulders, skipping a heartbeat as she turns around. Her eyes are wide and a smile soon follows, staring at him while he stares at her with a characteristic warmth in between them.

But the moment is lost to them as Sarada gasps, and unceremoniously throws herself over Sakura's head and into Sasuke's chest.

"Papa!"

Sakura struggles to keep her bun in place, and one leg kicks her softly on the cheek. "Sarada, careful!"

His arm drapes around her lithe body when it crushes into his, missing her warmth already. As soon as her small arms wrap around his neck and her head falls on his shoulder, he lets his eyes close for a minute; the corners of his lips turn upward because, _damn it_ if he hadn't missed her when he was away.

"Papa! You back! You back!" She lifts her head off his shoulder and looks at him from under her red glasses. "Mama said no!"

Sasuke looks behind the girl to his wife, taking in her smile and her glassy eyes, glazed over with love and unspilled tears.

He looks at Sarada. "Mama didn't know I was coming today, Sarada. It was a surprise."

"Well, do more surprises all the time, okay?" His daughter's smile is contagious, he notes, when he realises he's smiling too. His heart beats in his eardrums, ecstatic with the excitement of seeing them again.

"I will." He plants a kiss on her cheek, watching as she blushes and laughs when it's done. Sakura chuckles in the background, before she moves closer to them and wraps her arms around them both, from Sasuke's side; one arm on Sasuke's back, and the other on Sarada's.

"I missed you," she murmurs against the crook of his neck, and he looks down at the familiar mop of pink hugging him close.

Leaning closer to her ear, he whispers one last thing before his loud, blond best friend spots them amidst the crowd, possibly just done eating his multiple orders of ramen. He feels her smile against his layers of yukata, finally taking notice of what he's wearing.

"I missed you more."


End file.
